all that glitters, is not gold
by seifukus
Summary: — she is not Elisebeth, and he is not Ivan ;; prussia/belarus


disclaimer: hetalia © hidekaz himaruya

_492._

**all that glitters, is not gold**

_you're never gonna love me, so what's the use?_

_;_

Natalia knows Gilbert not Ivan.

Not even the almost snow-white hair and tall stature are enough to fool her.

(She's stupid, but she's not _that _stupid.)

To begin with, his eyes— they were different, so very different. While Ivan's eyes were a deep violet edging on amethyst, guarded and silent and always watching, Gilbert's eyes were red, a deep bold red, devil red, writhing with mischief and hell fire and a glint that made her shiver.

She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about his eyes, especially the way he stared at her, feelings conveyed yet muddled, projected outwards yet stifled in. It bothered her, his eyes, so she makes sure to threaten him whenever he looks at her.

(_Don't look at me like that.)_

Then there is his smile; it sends ripples up her spine, makes her uncomfortable and irritated and though she'd never _ever_ say it aloud, slightly aroused. His smile is the complete opposite of Ivan's—not a smile that reminds her of a wholesome winter with shattered skies and not the slightest glimmer in the horizon; his smile is akin to a blistering summer, painfully cold water being splashed onto her sweat-slickened skin, trails of subzero liquid trickling down her neck to her breasts.

She detests the feeling really, and she makes it known by raising her knife to his lips and giving her own smile.

(_I'll slice that smirk clean off your face.)_

When it comes to his body, the differences only enhance; his sinewy build all too different from the larger build of her brother, all too small and too close. His hands are smaller than Ivan's too, but as she notes, probably more calloused. Gilbert doesn't wear gloves like her brother does which leaves his palms open to the world.

Often times, it frustrates her, frustrates her how different Gilbert was and is from her beloved brother and how at the same time she clings to Gilbert's differences, holds onto them in a feeble, last attempt to plaster over an unrequited love gone awry and twisted.

Natalia wouldn't admit it, but she needed Gilbert and his differences, if not to distract herself, but to heal herself, even just a little.

_;_

Natalia, in no way, resembles Elisabeth.

To begin with, Natalia is dainty, an ice queen of sorts—cold and hard and completely see- through. Her whole being is delicate to the touch and a part of Gilbert—the destructive side that runs most of his conscious, only quailed by those around him—wants to break her, crush her into pretty shiny pieces that reflect the beauty that is her inner sadness.

He doesn't break her though, he's not stupid. It's clear to him that she only _seems_ delicate, only _seems_ breakable. Somewhere, inside of the glassy substance that is her fragile existence, is a core of hard ice, one that would stay solid no matter how chipped or cracked the outside became.

That is where she differs from Elisabeth, whose strength and power were up out front, whose fire shone right through instead of being horribly stifled inside.

But that was just scratching the surface. There were so many differences between the two. At times, Gilbert wonders if he should keep some sort of catalogue, some sort of list. Something to remind himself that despite the leering stares, the lop-sided smiles and the teasing he sends her way, Natalia isn't Elisabeth and she would never be.

(It makes him feel slightly guilty how much he wanted her to be, but no, Natalia isn't.)

There were other differences though, far more minor and more skin deep than anything. Differences like her hair - how rich copper was substituted by a shining white akin to light passing through curtains on a mild day. Or how, despite the fact that she and Elisabeth were the same height (Gilbert marks it up as coincidence and doesn't let himself get _too _excited that the two share some similarity), Natalia seemed smaller, much smaller. After much deliberation on the matter, Gilbert decides it is her presence, silent and secondary, that literally _shrinks _her.

There was the fact that her eyes were an equal amount of icy blue and soft violet instead of a brash, bright green, and how her nails are clean and tidy instead of bitten, chipped, or dirty.

There were those small things, skin deep that meant so much to him because they weren't her, they weren't Elisabeth, they weren't the woman who he had sought after, lusted for and lost, they were a whole new woman who despite his inner guilt, he was using to replace the chunk of his soul that Elisabeth had brutally cut out.

(Whether she knew it or not.)

_;_

They are a duo of fools, a pair of pitiful existences. Too stubborn to acknowledge their initial foolishness and too shy to admit they're still fools; all this time, as they had chased after ones they couldn't have with one another, they had began to fall in some sort of love with each other.

**a/n2:** this idea of natalia and gilbert trying to replace elisabeth and ivan with one another has been floating around in my mind for ages. i love this couple, rly.


End file.
